


I Was Supposed To Protect You

by icecheetah



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, drawing with lots and lots of blood, pov character has compromised senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 11:12:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18134990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icecheetah/pseuds/icecheetah
Summary: Steak was the only one around when the Fallen Angel attacked, and it was too powerful.





	I Was Supposed To Protect You

It only took two hits.

Two hits from one Fallen Angel to all but tear Steak down. Two hits and he could no longer feel one of his legs but everything else screamed. He tried to push himself up from his crumpled position but even if his body responded could he stand? Could he stand when every moment his strength drained away into the moonlit forest floor?

But no one else was there to protect his Master Attendant. He had to... had to...

'...run...'

The word barely made it past the blood in his mouth. He winced at the sound of his own weakness.

But he didn't hear his Master Attendant running away.

He heard them screaming "HOW DARE YOU!" and running TOWARDS the Fallen. No. NO! He twisted his head around, tried to call out, to reach out, but his arm merely convulsed and not a sound escaped him. All he could do was close his eyes, unable to bear seeing his Master Attendant be torn apart.

A scream.

It wasn't human.

That couldn't have been his Master Attendant. But... how? He can't have heard that right. There was no way a human could endure what he barely could. Never mind fight back.

Footsteps approached. The form he hoped but couldn't believe was his Master Attendant was just a blur in the shadows and the moonlight. The blur reached out and touched his face. A hand? It was too warm... soft... his Master Attendant's hands were almost always cold.

"It's okay."

But that was their voice. It... had to be.

 

They had to be fine...

Steak's body spasmed with the force of words he'd already lost the power to say. All that could come out of his throat was a whisper of a "hnn...".

"I'm sorry."

They had stolen his words. HE should be the one apologising. He failed them. He was the one lying broken, bleeding, because he somehow couldn't fight off something that they could.

He had to believe they could. That it really was them.

"This'll hurt."

Steak heard cloth tearing and then felt light touches and pieces of hurt send their messages up his spine, coiling and uncoiling his back as they went, bringing out small breaths that passed as gasps in his state. Light touches that left behind new pressures and places he could feel what remained of his pulse.

"It's done."

He couldn't open his eyes anymore.

"I'll take you home."

...

...hurts...

...

He couldn't hold onto his thoughts any longer.

So he let go.

**Author's Note:**

> This all started because I had a thought that was like "That would be good to send to a Food Fantasy prompt thing." And then it grew and refused to let me sleep until I wrote it. Though the end result is pretty up to interpretation, especially given that I accidentally managed to write Steak as going into shock and ran with it when I realised, the idea that sparked this was:  
> "A Food Soul's feelings when their MA turns out to be some sort of Fallen Angel Slaying Badass."  
> And I thought that Steak would be, given his emphasis on loyalty and protection, the absolute worst for this.  
> And then my brain focused on the event.  
> And I really wanted to draw some things for it...  
> Everything was done in less than 24 hours from when I got the idea.  
> I kinda really like the 'Dead Eyes' look I wound up with.


End file.
